Saturday, March 19, 2011

Current Craving: Recovery

The PB was felled by a stomach bug, an IBS attack, or something, yesterday evening. I'd had a bad headache all morning, so it was almost a pleasant distraction to have different symptoms for a change.

The dancing Cossacks hadn't visited my interior since July, and they have just been practicing in a haphazard way — random kicks and stomping in there, more welcome than a headache for sure.

I had to miss a dinner party last night. I sent my regrets along with my husband and my favorite cake. But I was one-upped by another sick guest with more spectacular excuses. He reported via email that he had "barely made it home alive" and had done a terrible thing on the tracks of a T station. There's nothing worse than being sick when you're away from home. I hope he's feeling better.

The cats have been good company, sharing the bed with me. Possum keeps walking around on top of me, and he's as heavy as he is irresistible. But lately he's learning to curl up next to me, where he'll spoon, purr, and nap. It's very sweet. Wendy keeps an eye on me from a safe distance.

4. Massive amounts of chocolate. As in, the leftover "Chocolate Decadence" cake my husband brought home from the dinner party. We'd picked it up from Party Favors between my illnesses. I get cravings for rich, unhelpful foods when I'm sick. I've so far avoided the cake because I know it would be disastrous. When I was a sick little kid, I begged for for purple grape juice and chocolate and drove my mother crazy. Last night, I caved and ate chocolate-covered raisins. Some things don't change, but she's no longer here to save me from myself.

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Who Is this Person, Anyway?

Five cats, too many books, and never enough cake or good stories. APB is an underachieving writer/editor/concert producer who spent many years working with the overprivileged at the MFA. Now does volunteer work in her Back Bay neighborhood when not expertly wasting time. Raised in an Italian-Irish family in a Pennsylvania steel town. Twelve years of Catholic school partly overwritten by four years at Swarthmore. Married to a charming professor and Patriots fan. Enjoys visiting Maine and Europe, but loves Back Bay best.